The Boy With The Bruises
by SimpleThingsInAMadWorld
Summary: There's a side to Draco, Harry, Snape, that we don't see, that no one ever sees... that was true, until William Davies came along - a smaller than average first year, who manages to reveal a side that has never seen light before in everyone he comes across; but whilst he unintentionally saves everyone else from their warped lives, who will save him? (Fifth year. Slightly OOC.)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! I have written fanfiction before, on other accounts, but am new to writing any Harry Potter fanfiction - after the release of The Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts, my love for Harry Potter has been rekindled. I am planning on writing a multi-chapter fiction, but I want to know whether people would read it. If you could read though this first chapter and let me know what you think of the pacing, wording, grammar, etc. etc.**

"Bloody hell! Watch where you're going!"

Stumbling back a few steps, his natural reaction to anything nowadays, he looked up, finding himself straining his neck to look at a giant - fierce ginger hair shaped in a scruffy, unfashionable bowl-cut, falling across his forehead, orange freckles littered across his cheeks and long, pointed nose, piercing blue eyes staring, from a height, down at the young boy; he must have been at least 2 metres tall! He was thin, but not unhealthily, just very gangly, like Rob from back on the estate, and he had huge hands. The giant wore thick black robes that fell to the floor, and a uniform underneath them - a scruffy black pullover, with scarlet and gold trimming, grey trousers, humongous black boots, with scuffed toes, a not-so-pure white shirt and a wrangled tie - the uniform made the giant seem like a teacher, and even if he wasn't, he was definitely older than him.

"I'm really sorry, sir - I was looking for the toilets. You don't happen to know where they are, do you, sir?" he asked, almost as quietly as a mouse, wobbling, and, almost falling when the train hit a knot on the track.

"You don't need to call me sir. If you head to the end of the carriage, there should be one. You'd better change into your robes; we'll be arriving soon," the giant said, looking out of the window at the countryside view. Turning his head to see what the giant was looking at, he saw rolling hills, going on for miles, a line of trees on the horizon, the sun beginning to set behind them, causing the sky to turn a red, purple-blue sort of colour. So this is what the countryside was like - he hadn't seen much more than the grimy streets, covered in rubbish, of his estate, a number of homeless people more than frequently sitting on the street corners. There was once somewhere nicer from when he was younger, but, unfortunately, he couldn't remember what it looked like at all - after all, how could he remember somewhere from when he was really young, when he had lived in the dirt for over half his life?

He then realised something - robes - he had none any of them, any of his school supplies; not only did he not have any of his school supplies, though, he also had nothing more than what he was wearing, as well as a small bag with a single set of spare clothes, his mother's wand, a book he had found and an anchor on a chain that his mother had given him. Father swore that he was never going to involve himself with wizard freaks, so said his 'goodbye' in the car park of Swansea train station at 9:30 pm (which in fairness, meant that his Father ended up missing the match, which he had watched every Saturday since he was 11, which consequently meant he was in a very poor mood when he dropped Will off at the train station), handing him his belated wife's old wand along with some train tickets, speeding off, leaving the eleven-year-old to navigate the trains himself at night - the boy hadn't slept for two days precedently, but still, despite how much his eyelids protested, ended up staying up the whole night, in fear of missing his stop - father would have been terribly angry at him. Even when he was on the train to Hogwarts, he tried to stay awake - he was surrounded by hundreds of people he hadn't previously met; he wasn't risking anything, not to mention the possibility of everyone finding out about his nightmares? He'd be the joke of the school before the first day! As a result of this lack of sleep, he was walking around like a zombie, huge bags under his eyes, not a great deal of what was going on making sense to his sleep-deprived state.

The trains were quite a task considering he had never been on a train ahead of the occasion. Firstly, he was expected to be able to change over three times just to find King's Cross, and secondly, was then left in the dark on how to actually find the platform - no one had given him any information to where blooming platform 9¾ was, and the train guard thought he was messing around when Will asked him - he only figured it out when he saw a group of ginger haired people with trunks, animals, and what have you, heading to platform 9. Knowing he had none of what it said in the letter, as well as having no idea what he was doing, he ran through the wall, which was undeniably interesting, and made his way onto the train, praying he wouldn't be told off for his lack of preparation for the beginning of the school year.

"I don't have any, sir," he said in a whisper, hoping he wouldn't be shouted at by the ginger giant for being unprepared.

"You don't have any robes?" he asked, making a confused face at the younger boy, which made the small boy incredibly nervous, causing his heart rate to increase ever more, even though it had already been beating faster than Usain Bolt.

"Father never brought me any, sir. Said he'd have nothing to do with this, sir."

"You honestly don't need to call me sir," the giant said.

"I'm sorry, sir." The giant sighed, shaking his head.

"What about your mother?"

"Dead, sir."

"Oh. I'm sorry...what's your name?"

"William, sir."

"Well, Will. Can I call you that?" Will nodded his head. "Why don't you come with me - you can have a set of my robes - I'll shrink them down for you."

"I couldn't."

"Sure you could, and then I can owl my mother, see if she can buy you some school supplies. Does that sound like a plan?"

"Okay…" Will said, trailing off - he wasn't even aware of the man's name, but was still following him. All of his senses were telling him to run off - his heart was racing like the train they were currently on, his palms were all sweaty, as if he had just put them under a tap, his breathing was irregular as well as being somewhat loud, but contradicting his natural flight response, he followed the giant - wasn't like the giant could do anything while they were on the train.

Will was practically running to keep up with this man, with his incredibly long legs, striding down the train corridor as if he were on a mission. He suddenly stopped, meaning Will was forced to use all his power not to run into the back of the giant, but still managed to trip into him anyway, ending up landing on his backside. Shuffling away, he began mentally questioning what would happen next, scared of what would happen for accidentally running into the giant.

"I'm sorry, sir; I didn't mean to hurt you." The giant turned around, and Will half expected the muscular man to give him a shiner, but he alas. Contrarily, he bent down, saying that he didn't need to apologise.

The giant stood back up, opening the door to a compartment similar to his own, but as an alternative to his own compartment, where there was no one else inside, there were two other giants, a boy and a girl, in the same black, gold, and scarlet uniform as the original giant. The boy had scruffy jet black hair, bright green eyes, the colour not being fazed by the thick, wire glasses that sat on his, like the other giant's, long, pointed nose - although his nose was not nearly as pointy as the ginger giant's nose. He also had a lightning bolt scar, which he thought was peculiar - what on Earth would cause a scar to be the shape of a lightning bolt - he had had his fair share but none of them had been cool, like this giant's scar seemed to be. He was also very short, compared to the other two, and was even thinner than the ginger giant, almost to the same scale that Will was. The girl, on the other hand, seemed to be a bit taller than the other two, but not by much, and had a little bit more weight on her - by no means was she fat (she was anything but), but she looked like she had three square meals a day, compared to the other two. She had bushy brown hair that fell down just past her shoulders, and dark brown eyes. After observing the other two, Will sheepishly stood up, standing behind the ginger giant.

"Harry, could you pass me my trunk, please," the giant said.

"Yeah, sure Ron," the giant, whom Will decided was Harry, said. Harry stood up, reaching to grab the trunk from on top of the luggage rack.

"Who's that, behind you?" the girl said, as Ron took the trunk from Harry, putting on the corridor floor, opening it up, meaning no one could pass. Standing there, almost cowering behind Ron, was a boy who honestly looked about eight years old - he was about 4" something, looking about the same weight as a small bag of sugar with arms, no bigger than twigs - he had a mop of black hair covering most of his hollow face (which he would occasionally push his hair back behind his ears, only for it to fall forward once more). When his hair was pushed back, two large, icy blue eyes appeared, with rather large bags underneath them, a large scar on his forehead, near his hairline, was visible, as was a scar on his chin. A grey plain t-shirt that was about three sizes the wrong size hung loosely off of his small frame, tucked into a pair of black trousers that were the same, having to be rolled up to stop him tripping up, as well as having to be held up with a blood red belt, which showed how small he was even more

"This is Will; he doesn't have any robes so I said I'd give him mine," Ron explained.

"Have you seen the height difference, Ronald? They'll be twice the size of him!" the girl said.

"'Mione - I can do magic; I'll shrink them down for him."

"You sure about that?" Harry said, laughing to himself

"I'm not that bad at magic, but you can do it if you insist." Picking up his robes, Ron told Will to put them on over his clothes. As Hermione predicted they hung off him, the sleeves almost reaching the floor. After Ron whispered a few words , the clothes began to shrink, fitting Will a great deal better.

"Harry, he's smaller than you were," Hermione said, forgetting that Will was standing there.

"What about the house logo?" Harry asked. "What if he isn't put into Gryffindor?"

"I don't know - Hermione, any tricks?" Ron said, turning to the girl.

"A disappearing spell on the logo, as well as the house colours," the girl suggested.

"Okay, then," the ginger giant said, whispering a few words, pointing his wand at Will, making all the logos disappear.

"So you can do magic," Harry said, Ron giving him an evil stare.

"What do you want, sir?" Will asked, looking back at Ron.

"What do you mean?"

"How much do you want me to pay, sir?"

"Nothing at all."

"But I need to pay, sir."

"I promise you, it's fine. Look, why don't you head back to your carriage - I'll see you in the great hall."

"Okay, sir. Thank you very much, sir!" Will said, running off in his new robes, the pain that had been building up in his chest from fear subsiding.

Ron closed up his trunk and with the help of Harry, put it back on the luggage rack sitting down.

"Who was that?" Harry asked.

"Some first year I bumped into - said he had no robes," Ron said.

"What was with saying 'sir' every time he spoke?" Hermione asked.

"Honestly, I have no idea. He's probably from a pureblood family; just been trained to call his elders 'sir' or something - most families raise their children that way," Ron said, having the most experience on the pureblood front, out of the three of them.

"I wonder what house he'll be in?" Harry said.

"Slytherin," Hermione said.

"Likewise," Harry said.

"What on Earth makes you think that?" Ron asked.

"According to you, Ronald, he's a pureblood, and from a pretty high-up family too, and if that is true, it's quite likely that he'll end up in the pureblood-supremacist house. Also, I'm unaware of whether either of you noticed, but there's something not right about him; not bad, or anything, just, not good…" Hermione said, turning to look out of the window.

"Cryptic as always, 'Mione," Harry replied.

"We're going to need to be more cryptic this year, now that Voldemort is back - we can't risk anything, especially with Malfoy - his family will be at the centre of it all."

"What about everyone else? They all thought you were lying last year," Ron said.

"We'll just have to deal with their stubborn-headedness - there's not much more we can do if we have no evidence," Harry said.

"No evidence except Cedric Diggory's death, or the Dementor attack, or any of the attacks on both wizards and Muggles!" Ron shouted.

"There's no proof it was Death Eaters, or Voldemort - until there's rock solid proof that he really is back, we have no choice but deal with it."

It was less than an hour between Will and the giant's interaction before the train stopped at the station - it was now pitch black, except for the lights in the station.

"All first years join me!" Another giant shouted - this giant was different, though; he made everyone else look like dwarfs - he was very tall and very large, and he had a very bushy brown beard. Making his way through the large crowd, Will found himself with the other first years, crowding around this giant.

"My name is Rubeus Hagrid - I will be taking you to the boats to the castle - if everyone could group into four or five," he said. It was very quickly apparent that everyone had already met prior to the occasion, so whilst everyone else was in groups, Will stood in the middle, alone. "Just join that group over there," Hagrid said, pointing to a group of three, made up of a larger than life boy, who could have easily been two people, and a pair of identical twins, who were exactly the same, down to the same vacant expression they wore. "Follow me!" Hagrid shouted.

It was a rather long trip, just to reach the boats - they walked for about twenty minutes, which gave time for Will's nerves to build up; he had no idea what to expect, and although his nerves had laid dormant for the past two days, because he was more excited to finally be out of Trius, the council estate in Swansea, he was now rather terrified.

Once they had reached the boats, however, all his nerves disappeared once more - it was truly a magical sight - towering over the lake was a castle, that had a copious amount of towers, and statues littered across the building; it sat on top of what could only be described as a mountain - all the candle lights in the castle were lit, creating an orange glow around the castle. The masterpiece was reflected in the lake below, only adding to the magic.

"One group at a time into the boats - begin sailing ahead, but don't row too far until everyone is on the water." The boats that Hagrid was talking about were small wooden rowing boats that had certainly gone through a great ordeal, but weren't unsafe - at the front, there was a lantern hanging on a stick, and there seemed to be no oars. Then again, this was Hogwarts - they probably rowed themselves. Group by group, they stepped onto the six boats, Will's group being the last.

"If anyone falls in, we're not going back," said the snobby-looking, chubby boy who had an even higher pointed nose than everyone else Will had seen so far. He had a slicked back, trimmed head of white-blonde hair that was almost the same colour as his paper-white skin, the black robes only making his skin look even more transparent, and eyes that were unnaturally blue, standing out on his porcelain skin. "Especially you," he said, poking his fat finger into Will's thin chest, twisting his finger hard into the skin, though the clothes - Will knew that the single act would leave another bruise on his multicoloured chest. " You fall in and we'll leave you to the merpeople - they may look nice on the outside, but will eat you up in seconds," he spat, removing his finger from Will's chest, dramatically swooping his robes in a superior manner, as he turned round to board the small wooden boat, that Will thought would skin as soon as the boy stepped on it. Unfortunately, it stayed afloat.

"I won't fall in, sir," Will muttered to himself, even though none of the others had heard him, his nerves, which seemed to be fluctuating at the same rate as his heart was beating, returning - what if everyone was like the boy? His encounter with the group of nice-seeming giant was being pushed to the back of his brain because of his experience with this boy.

The group of four climbed into the boat, Will being placed at the back, so that, according to the pig-like boy, the group weren't forced to look at the back of his ugly head, and the boat began moving, joining the rest of the boats that began their journey to the ancient castle ahead of them. Even with everyone else on the boat, it seemed to stay afloat, almost floating above the water, like magic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Oooh look - a second chapter!**

 **GoldenRacehorse - Thank you very much:). Yes, he has been abused. No, the boy from the boat is not a Malfoy, but from another very high up supremacists wizarding family.**

 **WizardingWhovian - For starters, fabulous name! Secondly, thank you very much!**

 **Once again, constructive criticism would be most welcomed - I am always trying to make my work better and the only way I can do that is if people point out where I am going wrong.**

Just like every other first year, Will immediately looked up at the ceiling when he first walked into the great hall, ignoring the hundreds of students, dressed in the same black robes, sitting at the four elongated wooden tables running the length of the hall, or the sizable teachers' table at the front of the hall on the raised floor, where a multitude of bright colours sat - what was on the ceiling was much more interesting; a starless dark sky, hidden by faint, grey clouds, hundreds of thousands of glowing candles floating in mid-air below the, what could have been, open sky, smiling down upon the great hall from high above, flickering from the opening of the humongous varnished wooden doors that lead into the room.

Huddled together like a pack of penguins, the group of twenty-five, or so, students walked down the thin aisle between the two middle tables, stumbling past the older, seated students, spreading out when they reached the front of the hall, in front of the grey stone steps. Once the group had stopped, an elderly man, with a beard so long and white he may as well have been Father Christmas, stood up, tapping his crystal goblet with an equally large silver metal spoon, hushing the quiet chatter that filled the hall, echoing off the walls.

"Welcome, welcome, to both the old and the new students and teachers. I believe the sorting hat has a few words for you all before you are separated into your separate houses," he said, sitting back down on his grand chair that towered over everyone, making the other teachers' chairs look like planks of wood, even though they still looked to be finely hand-crafted.

A worn down, pointed, black hat, sat on the stool that was placed in front of the newest students, upon the uneven steps, opened its dusty mouth and began singing a crackled, slightly out of tune, song.

 _"In times of old, when I was new,_

 _And Hogwarts barely started,_

 _The founders of our noble school_

 _Thought never to be parted._

 _United by a common goal,_

 _They had the selfsame yearning_

 _To make the world's best magic school_

 _And pass along their learning._

 _"Together we will build and teach"_

 _The four good friends decided._

 _And never did they dream that they_

 _Might someday be divided."_

The sorting hat preceded to go into detail about the different qualities of the houses, and how the four founders fell out over who entered the school, setting the scene for the new students at Hogwarts, as usual. But then it continued, following a completely different path, spreading confusion across the great hall, consequently.

 _"And now the Sorting Hat is here_

 _and you all know the score:_

 _I sort you into Houses_

 _because that is what I'm for._

 _But this year I'll go further,_

 _listen closely to my song:_

 _though condemned I am to split you_

 _still, I worry that it's wrong,_

 _Though I must fulfil my duty_

 _and must quarter every year_

 _still, I wonder whether sorting_

 _may not bring the end I fear._

 _Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

 _the warning history shows,_

 _for_ our _Hogwarts is in danger_

 _from external, deadly foes._

 _And we must unite inside her_

 _or we'll crumble from within_

 _I have told you, I have warned you..._

 _let the Sorting now begin."_

Few people understood what the sorting hat was on about, and consequently, the great hall burst into loud conversation, trying to decipher the sorting hat's warnings.

"What was that all about?" Harry questioned.

"The end of last year, you dimwit," Hermione said, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Has it ever given warnings before?" Ron asked.

"As a matter of fact, it has," Nearly-headless Nick said, appearing in the middle of the table, going through all the empty platters, creating a translucent barrier in between Harry and Hermione, and Ron. "The last time it did was during the first wizarding war, in 1970, 25 years ago. It's been silent ever since, but nevertheless, it's warnings return, as does someone else," Nearly headless Nick said.

A brutal glare was sent to the back of the hall, focused on golden trio… and Nearly-headless Nick, by McGonagall, the now borderline-ancient witch, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited to read out the shorter-than-usual list of first-year names. After recent events, it had become common knowledge that the list had dramatically decreased due to the events the year before, and the students who had appeared had only done so as they were either Muggle-born and therefore not heard about the return of Voldemort, or even heard about him at all, or had parents who thought that 'the chosen one' and the head of Hogwarts had been rolling lies off the tips of their tongues for years. The three, like the rest of the great hall, returned to silence, allowing McGonagall to continue with the sorting ceremony. Turning back to her list, McGonagall read out the first name: "Abercrombie, Euan." One by one, as they were called out, the students walked up to 'center-stage', taking a seat on the rocky wooden stool, all eyes on them, either looking smug, the sorting hat speaking before it had even touched the student's head, or looking terrified, the sorting hat taking its sweet time.

The three waited, longing to see where Will would be placed, Hermione sitting on her 5 galleon bet that Will would be placed in Slytherin, whilst Ron was adamant that he would be placed into Gryffindor, Harry deciding that it wasn't worth it.

"Davies, William," McGonagall called out, the timid boy appearing from in the middle of the slowly thinning crowd of first years, walking up the crooked stone steps, and getting up onto the stool, struggling as the stool seemed to be as tall as he was.

"Ahhh, a half-blood - oh, and what a shame, the magical side of your family is dead." The hat said, bursting into speech the second it had touched a single strand of Will's messy hair.

Will sat there, in shock, looking down at his hands as he picked at his nails, which had already been picked at so much that sensitive, red skin behind the nails was showing. Already everyone knew that half of his family was dead, as well as the fact that he was half-blood. Apparently, after hearing everyone talking in the train station, they had even more stick from the wizarding world than Muggle-borns, as their parents had 'fraternised with the enemy'. He chewed the inside of his thin lower lip, aware that it would start bleeding if he chewed too hard, trying not to get too anxious, too worked up, as his constantly unbalanced nerves rose high once more.

"So, you've gone through a fair bit already - quite the brave man; you'd go on to be a great Gryffindor - a great wizard indeed. However, you also have ambition, and courage too, I see - you'd be an excellent Slytherin as well. You are extremely lucky, in your case, to have the chance to be in either house, but what damage could be caused if you were placed in the wrong house? Although I said I wished not to split the pupils at this school apart, catastrophic effects could be the consequence of misplacing you, boy - it won't be just you affected, either, but the people around you also. Important discoveries may be left undiscovered, like unturned rocks. I must choose, though - you'd better be in… Slytherin!" The sorting hat shouted, it's crooked fabric mouth closing as McGonagall took the hat of Will's head, the boy sliding off the seat, accordingly; he wanted to be out of sight from everyone's stares as quickly as humanly possible. Unlike all of the other first years, who had been sorted, Will was sent off with silent chatter, as opposed to the loud claps, welcoming the other students. Walking over to the Slytherin table, he sat down, next to one of the older ones - another giant with blonde hair that was incredibly neat and tidy, in a way that made him seem rather important - all these giants weren't as bad as they first seemed appeared; they were nothing like the ones at home.

Trying to control his breathing, he wrapped his arms around his stomach, ignoring everyone, even though they were all greeting him - he wasn't enjoying the attention at all - everyone staring at him, and consequently turned away from everyone, looking vaguely in the direction of where all the other 1st years were, disregarding the fact that even though he couldn't see everyone, all the Slytherin that is, it didn't mean they weren't there. Just to think, he could have been in Gryffindor, where there were people he had already met; what's done was done, though.

"You were right then, 'Mione, about him going to Slytherin," Ron said, slightly disappointed that Will hadn't been placed in Gryffindor, picking two chicken drumsticks from the large platter, alternating between the two - despite being 4 years older, he still hadn't learned any table manners from the first year, back when it was acceptable to eat in a pig-like manner. The rest of the first years being sorted, followed by the usual speech made by Dumbledore every year, telling the first years that the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds, and that magic was not permitted between lessons in the corridors. He had then proceeded to announce changes to the staff team, the sickeningly sweet Umbridge, clad in a pink attire, taking over with some pathetic speech that not many had bothered to listen, notwithstanding the fact that Harry had had a rather unpleasant experience with her already.

"Let's be honest here - I'm always right," Hermione said, laughing. "Joking - I know I'm not," she said when she saw the looks on the other two's faces. "You still owe me 5 Galleons, though."

Looking over to where Will was sitting, near to the front of the hall, Hermione sighed, Ron and Harry turning around see where he was sitting, also. "Moreover, Malfoy decides he would sit next to him," Ron said, turning back round.

"You are aware that Malfoy was there first, right? Anyway, it could be worse," Harry said.

"As a matter of fact, I'm aware that Malfoy was there first, but the point was, why did he choose to sit right at the end, where he knew the first years would sit? And moreover, what are you on about when you say it could be worse? Malfoy is the school's own version of Voldemort, the son of a family of Death Eaters, and you think it could be worse? He'll poison him!" Ron whisper-shouted.

"Voldemort is definitely too harsh - you are equally as similar to Voldemort, Ronald, as Draco - he just hates a lot of people... and sometimes hurts people too, but nevertheless, he's not a murderer," Hermione said. "Although it may be true that Malfoy has his ways, he may not even talk to him, considering he's a half-blood - if he doesn't talk to Will he can't be poisoned."

"If we've had enough talking about Draco's similarities with the Dark Lord, can we talk about how neither of his sidekicks seems to be with him," Harry said.

"Maybe they've finally seen the light," Hermione said.

"Maybe…"

Staring at the mountain of food that had suddenly appeared in front of him, after Dumbledore's oh-so-joyful death speech ended, Will decided it was too much - the past two days had been exhausting, both physically and mentally; he hadn't seen more than a couple of crackers in the last week, however, was now surrounded by enough food to feed all the people on his estate for weeks and it was overwhelming.

Instead of doing what everyone else had done, piling up their plates high enough to reach the gates of heaven, pigging out on a feast that would be perfect for gods, Will sat back, watching everyone else eat; the blonde giant next to him seemed to have had the same idea, only taking a few salad leaves himself.

Happy that the food had appeared, Will began to get a little more comfortable - the arrival of the feast meant everyone stopped giving him, or the other first year's for that matter, strange looks, as they were too preoccupied with the food. Saying that - Will had noticed the three giants, back from the train, occasionally look at him as if he was doing something wrong - he'd been here for an hour and was already doing something wrong, but he didn't know what. Backtracking over the day, he tried to work out what he had done - maybe the ginger giant was regretting giving Will his school robes, or maybe he decided that Will wasn't deserving of his mother's help, or maybe they were angry because he was in Slytherin - he'd heard everyone talking about Slytherin, how they were all evil, and were all set out to become Death Eaters. Unaware of what Death Eaters were, Will skipped over the detail. However, he knew what evil meant; he didn't like the sound of being considered evil - all he ever tried to do was be good, but then again, Father hated him - maybe it was because he was evil.

It had only taken a mere three hours for the school population to eat their weight in food, before deciding that maybe they shouldn't have gotten so lost in the magnificent feast. After a few final words from Dumbledore: "a, ba, cub," which, once again, confused the entire school, including most of the teachers, Dumbledore dismissed the students.

"Slytherin first years, follow us!" the blonde-haired giant, who Will had been sitting next to, shouted, standing next to a girl with short frizzy hair and soft features, except for her striking green eyes. The group of 10 first years stood up, following the two fifth years through the crumbling hallways and down to the dank, dark dungeons, following them through the entrance to the common room (a stretch of wall in an empty corridor). Will didn't notice any of the features of the room, as the only colour, apart from the emerald green, was the black cloak of a man standing in the middle. The man was, like seemingly everyone else Will had met, a tall thin man; he had deep black eyes that sat in his sallow skin, crooked yellow teeth, and a large, hooked nose, all framed by greasy black hair that went down to his shoulders, which, from there to the floor, were covered in thick black layers of fabric.

"My name is Professor Snape. You will refer to me as 'Sir' or 'Professor Snape," the man said, once everyone had entered the room. "Rules," he said, with a thick, deep voice. "You will be in bed by 10:30, and will be awake at 6:30, when you will get washed and changed and be eating breakfast by 7:30," the dark man said, looking directly at Will and Draco, who had been standing behind the younger boy. "You will eat 3 square meals every day, whether you like it or not," he said, again, looking in the direction of the two boys. "You will do any homework you get on the day, and revise everything you have learnt at least twice a week - Slytherin is not for slackers!" Looking around the room, he forcefully said: "Do I make myself clear."

"Yes, sir," the group chorused back.

"All of you go to your dorms. Draco, come with me," Professor Snape said, turning on his feet, the blonde giant, which Will now knew as Draco, following on his tail.

The group of first years walked to up the stairs, splitting into a group of boys and a group of girls when they reached the dorms. Unfortunately, Will had been placed with the beefy boy from the boats, as well as the silent, threadbare twins, and another boy that he was yet to meet, but looked just as big, or bulkier still, than the first. He had a close shaved head of dark brown hair and a very round face, squinty, piggy eyes, and a bulging nose, pointed upwards like a pig's nose. It wouldn't be a surprise to anyone if they found out he also ate out of a trough, not that he did, mind you, but he may as well have done for the past eleven years.

"You can go next to the door, so you don't wake up the rest of us up when you start wandering. No doubt you will, bastard blood," the original boy said.

"Bastard? What does that mean?" the largest boy asked. He may have been the biggest, but the size of his brains seemed half the size.

"It means half-blood, you idiot."

Will tried to ignore the remarks from the other four. It was quite obvious who the alpha male of the pack was, who had the most power and control over everyone else, who would end up with a group of cronies that didn't like him really but were too scared to say any different. He knew to avoid now, and before the end of the first day had turned too; in theory would try to stay as far away as possible from the porky boy, but being in the same dorm would cause issues. The group got ready for bed, Will closing the thick cotton curtains around his bed, giving him privacy to get changed into the blue striped pyjamas that he had found in a small bucket in the corner of the dormitory; a lost property of sorts.

Opening back up the curtains, Will got into the bed, blowing out the candle on the bedside table, just as the rest of the boys had already done, staring up at the ceiling, noticing all the cracks in the plaster that had been highlighted by the moonlight that was shining brightly through the small window that was placed in the centre of the wall opposite.


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter - I was planning on updating this ever five days or so, but I have written this so why not post early?**

 **Thank you to everyone who has followed or favourite this, so far - I wasn't expecting it, considering the size of this fandom.**

 **WizardingWhovian - Oh, I am a definite Whovian. I can't wait for the Christmas episode.**

 **Again, constructive criticism is welcomed greatly.**

 **(09/01/17) I have edited a little bit of this chapter, near the end - it's only a sentence or two but I didn't like it so...**

Strange, it was, how although he hadn't slept at all for the last three days, he was wide awake - he guessed it was partly from the excitement of not being in Swansea anymore, and partly due to the fact that he was scared that his Father would suddenly appear from behind the curtains of the four-poster bed, which explained why he currently had the curtains open, moreover, that when he did fall asleep, he would wake up the whole of Slytherin with his nightmares - that was worth at least a thrashing back home, and this was a new start - no more drunk violence. He knew that Father never meant to hurt him, not really - Father had gone through a lot because of him - his wife and two of his three kids had died six years ago because of an accident, and five years ago he lost his job due to being diagnosed with severe clinical depression, which was why he had turned to alcohol, to relieve him of all his pain, to make him feel again - that's what Father had told Will. Alcohol did things to people, though, changed them. The accident was also why he hated magic - it reminded him too much of what he lost because of Will.

The question of whether he would sleep again circled round his head - frankly, he was terrified of falling asleep, due to the fact that the last time he had, it hadn't ended up too pleasant.

Will ended up giving up on trying to fall asleep, and slipped out, of his bed. Having a bed all to himself had surprised him - he had never been allowed his own bed, as they cost too much and Father couldn't afford to buy Will a bed of his own - consequently, Will usually slept on the floor, in the humble, box-sized, empty attic - there was a dust sheet, which Will would use to keep himself warm - they couldn't afford to pay for the heating, so it ended up getting cancelled, and the insulation in the attic wasn't enough to keep out the winter chill, and even the dust sheet only did so much. The attic wasn't amazing - it often smelt of smoke and alcohol and it over the years, had had a range of visitors, from the spiders, who nested there in the autumn and winter, to the small family of rats, who would steal food from their cupboards, not that there was a notable amount for most of the time, and hoard it up in the attic - this ended with Will being blamed for the food disappearing, which resulted in a thrashing from Father. Nevertheless, it was more than the homeless people on the estate got - he at least had a roof over his head, and as Father said, he should be grateful because he had more the homeless scum and therefore had enough. Will didn't think the homeless people were scum - they had all just had a tough life and God hadn't cared enough to help them.

Will began to roll up his pajama bottoms - there had been a box of spare clothes in the dormitory, for those who had forgotten something or another, which meant Will now had a few pairs of robes - the pair from Ron and a pair from the box, both which were like dresses on him, but fit better than everything he had ever worn before, and some striped, button-up pajamas - usually he just wore one of the two pairs of clothes he owned to bed, so this was also a shock. Of course, the pyjamas were massive on him, but it was better than nothing, so what did he have to complain about? Now he was only missing his school books, but he hoped that like the uniform, the school had spares.

Once he had rolled up his bottoms and sleeves, so that they were no longer a tripping hazard, he crept across the dormitory and snuck out, taking his book with him - it was a book called 'Grimm's Fairy Tales', something he had found in one of the skips near his house - this was the only other possession he had. Ordinarily, he would have read it there, but now that he was surrounded by four other boys, he wasn't able to - the light would have woken everyone else up, but no one would be in the common room, so he would be able to read without the light waking up anyone else, which would probably end up leaving him with a shiner, at least. Running down the stairs as quietly as possible, Will stopped, freezing, when he saw someone in the common room - they were sitting at one of the tables and although their back was turned, he immediately recognised him as the giant he sat next to earlier - the blonde haired giant, who, like Will, didn't eat as much as the rest of the Slytherin's did. Will knew he should probably leave the giant alone; he didn't want a shiner on his first day; he wanted to stay, however - he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep and there was no point staying up there, but one foot out of line would cost him dearly.

"You can stay," the giant said as if he knew, turning around to face Will, his grey eyes scanning over Will.

"No, no, it's fine, sir - I'll leave you alone, sir. Sorry, sir," Will mumbled, turning back around to head back to the dormitory.

"No, stay," the giant said, standing up and placing his hand on Will's shoulder, consequently making Will flinch. Turning around, Will looked up to the giant - he had heavyhearted grey eyes, his white-blonde hair falling in front of them. The giant was thin, not like Will, but more than most people, his jaw sticking out, much like his cheekbones; his nose was rather pointed, but not so much that he looked like a witch, but enough to make him stand out, like he was important enough to stand out from the rest of the troops. "You can keep me company." The last time anyone had said that...well…

Will found himself, once again, following this giant over to the dark leather sofa that sat in front of the stairs that led to the entrance of the common room - everything in the common room was posh, expensive, nothing like what Will was used to; there were carved wooden tables and chairs, varnished and polished that meant they were just as able to be used as mirrors, there were two fireplaces, made out of intricately carved marble, that looked like two snakes, the floor was made from fancy tiles that would have cost at least £300 each - that was more money than his family had ever owned. Conversely, it was still a dungeon, and nevertheless, the mountain of wealth spent on the decoration of the common room didn't detract from the spiders in the corners, weaving webs, or the ash scattered around on the rugs in front of the fireplaces. Will decided to sit on the edge of the couch, accordingly, scared that just by sitting on it, he would damage it, whilst the giant leant into it, running his hand through his hair, shutting his eyes.

"So how come you're up, this late," the giant said, looking at his watch that said it was two in the morning.

"I couldn't sleep, sir," Will said.

"You don't have any reason to call me sir. My name's Draco," the giant replied.

"I'm sorry, sir. If it's not rude, sir, may I ask why you're awake?"

"Same reason," he replied simply, tiredly. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, notwithstanding the fact the silence seemed to take over for hours; that was until Draco began speaking again. "You didn't eat much this evening."

"Nervous, sir," Will lied - although he had been extremely nervous, he didn't eat because simply because he wasn't hungry. Draco, like the ginger giant from on the train, shook his head at Will's insistence of using the pronoun 'sir' when he was talking.

"Snape won't be happy," Draco said.

"Snape? Who's Snape, sir?" Will asked.

"He's the potions master and head of Slytherin - he was the man dressed all in black, at the teacher's table earlier."

"Why won't he be happy, sir?" Will asked, trying to stay calm when in reality he was terrified. The last thing he wanted was to find himself in trouble - he'd been here less than a day and there was already a chance he was going to be sent back.

"He wants healthy, powerful snakes - if one of them doesn't eat, that's a sign that they're unhealthy, weak - by no means does he want that for any of his house, whether he likes them or not," Draco explained, getting slightly annoyed at the kid's basic questions.

"It was only once, though, sir."

"That doesn't matter. He probably knows already that we're out of-" Draco was cut off by a firm hand on each of their shoulders, making the two of them stand up in shock, turning around to see who the pair of hands belonged to, although Draco had already made an educated guess.

"What do you two think you're doing out of bed at this time?" he questioned in a deep, raspy voice, standing behind the leather sofa eyeing up the newest addition to his pit of snakes.

"Couldn't sleep, sir," the two said at the exact same time.

"You'd better find a way. I could always offer you some sleeping draught. Would you like that?" he said, looking at Will, which unnerved him, to say the least.

"No thank you, sir," Draco replied.

"I'd better not catch you awake again then. If you're not asleep within the hour, I'm bringing the draught, whether you want it or not," Snape said, his black cloak sweeping across the floor as he sharply turned around to leave. However, just before he got to the stairs, he stopped and turned back round. "You two had better start eating too," he said before leaving, muttering: "way too thin, the pair of you."

As soon as Professor Snape left, Will sat back down, realising that he had been clutching his book so hard that his bony knuckles had gone white. After noticing the book in Will's hands, Draco asked: "Do you like reading?"

Will nodded. "Yes, sir." Walking over to the bookshelf that was positioned in the corner of the room, Draco pulled out a battered old book from the third shelf. Sitting down next to Will, who had relaxed a little bit, and therefore, was now sitting on the cold sofa more than he had been prior to Snape's arrival, Draco opened the threadbare book.

"Have you read The Three Brothers? I know it's a story for kids, but you can't live in the magical world unless you've read it," Draco asked, opening, what, from a closer point, looked like a children's book, to half way through the book.

Will shook his head. "No, sir." Consequently, he began to read aloud.

By the time Draco had finished, Will was no longer wide awake, sat up straight on the couch, but rather asleep, leaning against Draco, who hadn't rejected Will when he first leant on him, but contrary to his usual attitude to others, accepted it, wrapping his arm around the boy, whom, as Snape had said, was way too thin, and ended up running his hand through Will's long, messy, Potter-esq hair, in a soothing manner.

Of course, Snape also came back an hour later, as he promised, when he noticed that the two boys were still out of their dormitories, with not only a sleeping draught for the two boys but also a nutrition potion for Will, whom he had decided was in need of it, as he hadn't eaten at any point that evening, whereas Malfoy had at least had some salad.

"He won't be needing the sleeping draught, then," Snape said, sitting on the couch opposite, the only thing between them being a small mahogany coffee table, which had the Tales of the Beetle and the Bard sitting, open, on it.

"He fell asleep halfway through," Malfoy said, pointing his head towards the book.

"Nevertheless, you still need it. We can't have a fifth year Slytherin like yourself falling asleep on the first day of the year. Reputation."

"At least let me take him back to his dorm first," Draco said.

"Then you come back so that I can see you take it," Snape said, knowing Malfoy's reputation for taking potions of any sort.

"Fine," Draco replied, sighing. Twisting around so that he could pick up Will without disturbing the boy, who seemed to have had no sleep for the last week, Draco put his arms underneath Will's knees and behind his back. "Oh, flying Hippogriff," he whispered as he stood up with the smaller than life boy - Will was as light as a feather - the boy had clearly not slept for a week, but moreover he seemed to have forgotten to eat too.

"Language, Draco."

"I'm sure you would have had the same reaction, had it been you picking him up," Draco said with a scowl. Picking up Will's book, which had fallen on the floor when he had fallen asleep, he began dodging his way past the various items that filled the common room, Draco began to head up the steep steps towards the first-years' dormitory.

When he got to Will's room, he put him in his bed, pulling the covers up to his chin, placing his book on his bedside table. Taking the time to observe the room, Draco noticed the considerable size difference between Will and the other boys - they were all rather plump for their age, and by the size of their trunks, all came from respectable, wealthy, pureblood families - Draco realised that it was unlikely that Will would make friends with any of them - they were all too different from him - he was half-blood, which people, his father especially, had begun considering worse than being mud-blood, and Will was also the size of a twig; he'd get squashed by them. Sighing once more, he walked away and closed the door, heading back to the common room, where he knew he would get a lecture from the head of Slytherin.

"You have to watch over him," Snape said, as soon as he sat down on the leather couch, opposite the teacher.

"I am aware that he need's protecting, sir," Draco said. "I don't know what the sorting hat was thinking - he isn't going to last two minutes in this house, sir."

"I am aware of that. Don't protect him, though - just watch."

"Just watch when he gets beaten up?," Draco questioned. "Bit harsh, isn't it?"

"Maybe it is, Malfoy, but I don't care if you think it's too harsh; just watch over him, don't wrap him in some big fluffy blanket."

"Why do you care so much? You've never even had a conversation with him, sir," Draco said, questioning Snape's reasoning behind why he decided to get involved, on the first night of this kid being here too - anyone else and Draco knew Snape would have put it down to nerves and excitement, so what was different about Will, this skinny half-blood that no one had ever seen before today.

"It's complicated…" Snape said.

"Because I buy all of that 'it's complicated' shit," Draco said, in a very 'grumpy teenage' manner.

"Language!" Snape said, scowling at him. "It really is complicated, for your information, Malfoy, and you don't need to know about it. You just need to watch over him for me."

"Fine," Draco sighed. Knowing that he would find out eventually, he stopped asking questions about Snape's intentions. However, this turned the conversation towards him.

"You need to do the same." Draco looked at Snape as if he had started growing three heads.

"For your information, I am fine."

"Oh yes, I can see that in your current state, you could be leaping over hills. Just like you need to care for Will, you need to care for yourself as well - you need to eat more than salad for the rest of the year, and only four hours sleep isn't going to cut it either." Nodding subconsciously, Draco stared at a point on the wall - he had stopped paying as soon as the conversation changed. "Pay attention, Malfoy! You're going to have a weaker dose of Sleeping Draught tonight - the full dose and you'd end up waking up 11am, and by the time you'd got ready, you'd have missed your first two lessons. With this dose, you'll wake up around 7. Don't expect to have it every night, though - you'll become immune, moreover, I don't have either the time to be making you your own supply." Nodding again, Snape handed Draco the potion, knowing he hadn't paid attention to anything he had just said. Taking the potion, Draco cautiously drank it. "Good night Draco - I'll see you in potions tomorrow."

"Good night, sir," Draco said, heading back up to his own dorm - he knew Snape was right, that food and sleep would probably do him good, but these days, he could hardly bring himself to eat anything more than one small meal every couple of days, which he ate more for the people around him - if they saw him eating, they wouldn't waste their sorry little time worrying about him. As for the sleeping situation, his brain seemed to turn on at night, whilst at day, he spent the time trying not to fall asleep - it wasn't healthy, but at least he had something new to think about - Will, the mystery.


	4. Chapter 4

**More chapters!**

 **WizardingWhovian - Same, I can't wait to see Bill, and what she's like.**

 **Once again, I would really appreciate constructive criticism from you guys.**

Will awoke at 7 o'clock, being strangled by the web of blankets that were now wrapped around him, yet he didn't even remember going to sleep, not in this bed anyway. Seconds later, the curtains around his bed were ripped open; Will immediately sat up, pulling the sheets up around his body. In front of him stood one of the boys from the day before, not the gang leader but the other bulky one.

"Up! He wants you!" Will was yet to know any of their names, but his experience with gangs meant that he knew the boy was talking about the other bulky one. He also knew that from now until the end of his time at Hogwarts he would be their servant, but he was okay with that - it was nothing new. "Come on then, hurry up!"

The boy walked away, leaving Will to figure out how to escape the clutches of the sheets. Once dressed, he walked over to the leader, who dropped his untouched books, Will failing to catch them.

"Squib," he said, nonchalantly, his head held high whilst Will scrambled around, picking up all the pristine books. "You will take all my books to lessons. We have Defence Against the Dark Arts first." The boy brushed past Will, who was now standing up, clutching onto the pages, slamming his shoulder into Will's before walking out of the door, heading towards the great hall for breakfast. Will hurriedly put the books on the end of the boy's bed before following after him, tripping over a book that he had apparently missed when clearing them up.

Breakfast was tiny, in comparison to the great feast the night before, yet even after The Gang and Will left, there were still mountains of food left. Once again, Will ate nothing, except for drinking a mug of tea, which he thought he would try, considering he never had previously. Unlike the night before, he noticed a glare as sharp as a knife come from Professor Snape. Will ignored it, watching everyone else fill up on pieces of toast and strips of crispy bacon whilst he sipped at the warm liquid.

When the other four boys were done, Will followed them back to the dormitory to pick up the boy's book and quill, remembering that he himself had none of the correct equipment - he hoped the teachers would all forgive him, but he highly doubted it, considering today he had Professor Umbridge, Professor Snape, and Professor Flitwick, who all scared him, despite the glow of pink that engulfed Professor Umbridge, and the fact that Professor Flitwick was the only person he had seen so far who appeared not to be half-giant, and smaller than Will, which was quite a feat, to be frank.

The group of five boys walked quickly to their first lesson, Defence Against the Dark Arts, The Gang stalking forward, their long legs striding ahead whilst Will had to run to keep up with them. They reached the classroom on the second floor, joining the little line of fifteen first year Gryffindors and Slytherins, waiting for the lady in pink to welcome them in, hoping that the first lesson wouldn't be too terrible.

The doors flung open, a scent of flowers hitting their noses as soon as it did so - in the doorway stood Professor Umbridge, wearing what, Will guessed, would be her signature colour - pink.

"Don't dawdle - come in and find a seat! We have much to do today," she said, moving out of the way, gracefully marching to the front of the classroom, turning round to watch the first years find seats. Will placed books he was protecting on the larger boy's desk before walking over to a spare desk in the middle of the classroom (that resembled a florists or a sweet shop more than a classroom), next to a tall Bangladeshi girl dressed in Hufflepuff robes, with hair longer than Will had ever seen before.

"Good morning class," the short lady at the front, wearing a fluffy pink cardigan over her knee-length fuchsia pink dress, said cheerfully, her tight curls bobbing up and down and she turned around and began scratching away at the blackboard, writing 'Defence Against the Dark Arts For First Years' in slanting curvy handwriting, the colour of the chalk being pink, matching her attire, as opposed to the usual white chalk that the majority of professors owned.

"Morning," a few people responded, not having quite the same energy levels as her. Whilst she ran on sickly sweet energy, everyone else was tired, just getting used to the new ways of life, now that they were all parentless until the Christmas holidays.

"It's good morning Professor Umbridge, to you," she said, shaking her head as if she were disappointed in the thirty first-years already. "Come on, let's try that again. Good morning class," she said cheerfully.

"Good morning," the class said again with a little more effort.

"I suppose that will do… for now. I would all like you to take out your books, and we can do a little introduction to the course, which is mandatory for the next five years. If you're lucky, we can even do a little test to see how much you already know." Everyone began to open their school books to the first page, except for one person. "And where would your book be, Mr Davies?" Professor Umbridge said, raising her eyebrow, walking up to William's desk in the middle of the classroom, looking down at the young boy.

"I don't have it, ma'am," he said, quietly.

"Speak up boy!" She shouted, before returning to her fluffy state, readjusting her cloy cardigan.

"My father never took me to buy anything, ma'am."

"It's Professor Umbridge to you, not ma'am. Why did he not buy you your school equipment? It's not correct to turn up to lessons unprepared - he should know that, surely."

"He said he would have nothing to do with magic, Ma'a- Professor Umbridge. I am sorry Professor Umbridge."

"I will not have snivelling in my classroom. Detention, 6 pm, tonight." Umbridge then proceeded to place a large, faded, leather-bound textbook on his desk. The spine of the book was hanging on by a single thread, and half the pages were either dog-eared or torn. Strutting back to the front of the class, she turned, staring at the first years. "William, why don't you read the first page for all of us, partake in the class?"

William stood up from his seat read, as loud and clear as possible, whilst speaking like a cheater ran - as fast as humanly possible, wanting to sit down as soon as possible.

"You have made a countless number mistakes, reading a very simple page, and you read far too quickly for anyone to understand. I may have to reconsider what I was planning for you detention, Mr Davids. Sit down," Professor Umbridge said. "Is there anyone else, more capable than William, who wants to read the passage again?" Some girl at the front of the class raised her hand, and to Umbridge's pleasure, read it as clear as day.

The lesson went ever so slowly after the incident, reading page after page of the book, learning about the theories behind magic.

"Before all of you rush off, I have homework for you: a two-foot long piece summarising everything you have covered today, due in tomorrow." The class groaned, writing the homework down on their parchment, before leaving the room, heading back to their dormitories. "Mr Davies, don't forget - six o'clock, sharp!"

Will picked up the book and quill that were left on the bulky boy's desk, noting that the name on the inside of the book said 'Scorpius Canis', and walked out of the room, running to try and catch up with the group, who were already in the dormitory by the time Will had made it there.

"Hurry up - we have potions, and the last thing I want be is in trouble with our own head-of-house," Scorpius said, snatching the Defence Against the Dark Arts book from Will's hands, replacing it with a book about potions. Once again, The Gang went off ahead, leaving Will to chase after them, hoping that he would arrive in time.

Unfortunately, they did not, The Gang walking into the classroom based in the dungeon, the only source of light coming from the candles in the corners of the rooms, with their heads held high whilst Will stood behind them sheepishly. Professor Snape stood at the front of the class, behind a rickety wooden desk, writing on the charcoal black chalkboard, dressed in his, much like Professor Umbridge, signature clothes, black cascading to the floor like smoke, engulfing him almost.

"And what is your excuse?" he asked, turning around to stare condescendingly at the group of five, past his crooked nose.

"It was his fault," Scorpius said, pointing toward Will.

"That does not explain why you're all late, does it?" Professor Snape said, making The Gang leader question his status. "I expect every one of my house to arrive on time, and to respect everyone - you need to learn to take the blame for yourself and no one else. Are we clear?" The group nodded. "Sit down, all of you," he said, pointing to five seats at the front of the class, right by his desk. They all sat down, Will handing the potions book to Scorpius whilst Snape glared at the five of them. He finally turned back to the chalkboard, writing the rest of his name and the lesson down, which he had been so rudely interrupted by before."As I was saying, you will all be taking this until the end of your OWLs, so you may as well start trying now, while you can still be bothered."

Professor Snape continued to talk for a solid fifteen minutes, explaining the subject in full detail before telling the class to take out their books, which everyone did, except, once again, Will. Professor Snape wasted on time dishing out detentions for Will. "You were not only late but moreover, do not have the correct equipment with you." Luckily, Professor Snape scheduled the detention for seven o'clock, although it was every day for the next week - this meant that there would be time to rush from Professor Umbridge's detention on the second floor at six, to the basements for seven.

Professor pointed over to a cupboard in the corner. "There should be spares in there - you can take one, but by the end of the month, I expect you to have your own copy of the book." Will stood up, walking past the rest of the smallish class to the cupboard at the back, picking up a scruffy book and taking the shameful walk back to his chair at the front of the class.

After two hours of potions, the first half spent reading the first chapter of the book, whilst the second half was spent watching Professor Snape do a potions demonstration on an apparently 'simple' potion which they would have to repeat in the next lesson, the class were let loose for lunch, practically all of Gryffindor and Slytherin rushing down to the great hall like a herd of elephants, whilst Will nonchalantly walked back to the dorm, clutching onto the potions book he had been given by Professor Snape, hoping that he wouldn't accidentally damage it, as that would almost definitely lead to at least another week of detentions, cleaning out cauldrons, as well as Scorpius's book, which he was less motherly over, but still took much care, not to damage any of the corners, otherwise that would be a beating for sure.

Looking at the timetable etched onto the cream parchment paper that every first year received the day before, sitting on his bedside table, Will saw that he had a couple of hours before Charms with Professor Flitwick, and decided that it was probably best for him to do his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework now, considering his evening would be taken up with detentions - it wasn't like he was hungry for lunch, anyway. Picking up the parchment from the DADA lesson that morning, the textbook he had been given by Professor Umbridge, and a quill, Will headed back down the stairs to the emerald common room, placing himself at one of the expensive looking tables (not that any of them weren't expensive) and began writing, well aware that he wasn't worthy of sitting at such a nice table.

Before he knew it, lunch had finished and The Gang walked into the common room, signalling Will to finish writing the essay, which still had half a foot of parchment remaining, and collect Scorpius's book for Charms, which he did accordingly before they headed off to a third lesson, Will knowing exactly what would happen. They would walk in, probably slightly late, Professor Flitwick would say a short introduction, before they would take out their textbooks, only for Will to have to painfully ask to borrow one, in return not only getting a textbook but a detention also, then followed by an hour of practice.

Professor Flitwick's classroom was on the fifth floor and took ten minutes to walk to, which, as Will had predicted, made the group late by about five minutes. However, Professor Flitwick, a very short man standing on a pile of books allowing him to see above his desk, was a whole lot more sympathetic towards them compared to the other teachers Will had met so far.

"Don't worry you five - ordinarily I wouldn't be too pleased, but it's a ginormous castle, and your first day, you're bound to be late, to begin with. If you find a seat and open your textbooks to the first page, then we can all continue from where we were. William, there is a spare book in the cupboard for you."

"Thank you, sir," he mumbled. By this point, Will's face was radiating as brightly as the sun; this was the third time he had to take the embarrassing walk from the front of the class to the back to grab a book, then walk to the front again to sit down in the only available seat, getting in the way of everyone.

"My name is Professor Flitwick for those of you who don't know, and I will be teaching you charms. Wandlore is very peculiar - the wand chooses the wizard after all, which you must have heard from Ollivander, correct?" The class nodded, minus Will, who was now left confused over this man called 'Ollivander' - who was he? "As a result of the complicity of Wandlore, notwithstanding the fact that it is mandatory until your OWLs, which you will take in your fifth year, it is vital that you pay close attention now." Once again, Professor Flitwick went into a profound amount of detail about the subject and the course over the first year, before teaching a very basic charm to the class. Will suspected all the lessons would be this way until the end of the fortnight, once they had had the first lesson for each course.

However, unlike the other lessons, something strange, peculiar, happened. When it came to the point in the lesson where the class were allowed to practice the charm that Professor Flitwick had taught them on their own, Will noticed a burning sensation on his hands and arms, and a less than normal volume of a charcoal coloured smoke-like substance coming from inside his robes, not that a charcoal smoke-like substance appearing from his clothes was ever normal. He raised his hand - on one else seemed to be having the same trouble as he was.

"What is it, William?" Professor Flitwick asked, looking up from the work on his desk.

"It isn't working for me, sir," Will said, watching Professor Flitwick climb down from his pile of books and walk over to his desk. "Do the charm again," Professor Flitwick said. Will did so, the same thing as before happening.

"I've never seen anyone produce smoke like that, but nevertheless, it has been recorded - this is your own wand right?" Professor Flitwick asked, concerned.

"It's not, sir - it's my mother's wand, sir; we didn't have time to buy anything, sir," Will said.

"You will need your own wand, otherwise nothing will work - unfortunately you won't be able to until Christmas, so consequently, you're going to have to deal with this wand for now. As long as you know the theory you shouldn't be too far behind after Christmas." Professor Flitwick turned back around, clambering back onto his pile of books.

The lesson ended shortly after that, leaving Will about two hours before his detention with Professor Umbridge, by which point his meagre stomach was ready for an even less amount of food. He planned to have dinner with everyone else, which would hopefully remove the grimace from Professor Snape's face, but first, he had to complete the essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was due in the next day. The remaining half a foot of parchment only took about half an hour to complete, leaving him time to walk to the great hall and eat before his detention.

There was, once again, mountains of food, suitable for giants, spread out across the four wooden tables. Will walked over to the practically empty Slytherin table and sat in the middle, picking up some of the lettuce from one of the silver bowls, slowly munching his way through, only managing a few leaves before he felt full. Usually, when there was food at the house, Will would clean up all the plates, yet there appeared to be on where to do that in the great hall. As Will hadn't eaten prior to now, he had to wait to see what other students did before he did anything himself. From what he could see, they just left their plates, which would magically disappear, so, despite Will feeling incredibly rude for doing so, left his half eaten plate of salad also, and walked back out of the Great Hall, beginning to slowly make his way through the maze of stone cold corridors, up the rickety stairs and towards the classroom for his detention with Professor Umbridge on the second floor, hoping that without having to carry the heavy books of Scorpio, he would arrive there on time, or earlier, despite the length of his legs slowing him down.


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't know if I'm going to post again before the beginning of 2017, so I'm going to write my own 'Queen's Speech', but actually acknowledging the fact that 2016 is now infamous for being an absolute uproar of a year; let's not kid ourselves here.**

 **So many wonderful people have died this year, Alan Rickman (Jan 14th), David Bowie (10th Jan), George Michael (25th Dec) and Carrie Fisher (27th Dec), just to name a few famous faces, notwithstanding people we may have known personally.**

 **There have also been many terrorist attacks, killing many people, in France (13th June/14th July/26th July), Orlando (12th June), Dallas (7th July), once again, just to name a few, destroying so many people's lives, and war in Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan. Moreover, not only have people caused death and destruction, but natural disasters have also done so, such as Hurricane Matthew.**

 **Not only have we had death, but this has been a horrific year for politics, also. No matter where you stand on the American Election, or Brexit, America and the UK both find themselves split down the** **middle, and what is to happen is uncertain, not to mention the thousands of refugees because of governments around the world.**

 **It has not been a good year, but we must also remember the good. We now have new Harry Potter content, the FARC peace deal, and there was a breakthrough in Ebola research. In my family, we have had a new life brought to us, as have many of you undoubtedly, whether that has come in the form of a new baby, or pet, or through a relationship that has sparked.**

 **In a few days it is the beginning of 2017, a new chapter so to speak, so let's leave 2016 behind and start afresh - 2017 is a daunting year, faced with all the repercussions of 2016, but staying in a year of doom and gloom is not going to help us. We must not forget the events of this year, as we can learn from them, the good and the bad.**

 **May your God, where ever your beliefs lie, bless you all in this new coming year. Thank you for reading up till now and thank you for continuing to read - it brings me such joy to see that this piece of work has reached the far corners of the world, and I hope that from whatever corner of the world you are from, your home brings you joy over the next coming year.**

 **To quote a great man: "Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, of one only remembers to turn on the light," and from another, "Live well and Prosper."**

 **watch?v=rId95N2teUc - Auld Lang Syne, to welcome in the new year good and proper.**

 **WizardingWhovian - Yes it was really good! Speaking of Doctor Who, did you see the new spin off 'Class'?**

 **Here is the next chapter, and final chapter of 2016, and I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Rachel x**

Opening the door, Professor Umbridge stepped out to meet Will, looming over him, the scent of flowers ever strong, ever intoxicating. "Good evening, Mr Davies. Come in," she said, pulling open the door further to let Will in. The thought of what would happen began to scare him - he had never had a detention, yet on his first day he had managed to secure a solid weeks worth of evenings.

Walking through the dark classroom, they climbed up the stone steps, onto the high balcony that overlooked the room - from up there, it looked massive, rows upon rows of tiny wooden desks and chairs, cupboards lining the walls, and hundreds of diagrams and pictures about education, or careers for the future, on poster paper stuck on every bare bit of wall and the back of cupboard doors.

At the end of the narrow balcony was another door, which they walked through, into a bubbly pink room, decorated from ceiling to floor in saucers with magical moving cats. In the middle of the room was an expensive looking wooden table that held the home of random cat memorabilia, a stack of blank parchment and a quill sat in the middle of that table. At that point did Will began to question what he would be doing in the time he was in the office. What actually happened in detentions?

As if she could read his mind, Professor Umbridge spoke: "You will be writing lines for me, this evening," she said in her sickly sweet tone. Taking a chair from the opposite side of the table, she placed it in front of Will, beckoning him to come forward, into the room properly. "Sit." Doing as she said, he sat, feeling even smaller than usual in the reasonably large pink chair.

"What would you like me to write, Professor?" Will asked, looking at Professor Umbridge, who stood on the opposite side, hands intertwined, smiling.

"You will write: I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure." Will looked at her - he hadn't been late, or rude, in her lesson, at least not intentionally, or so he thought. "You came unequip to my lesson, and gained a detention, yet nevertheless, did not learn your lesson. Other teachers in this establishment have expressed their opinions on you, and your little group of friends, being late, without the correct equipment, and being unable to perform the simplest of tasks. Consequently, you will be writing what I have told you." Not only had he gained a week's worth of detentions, but the teachers all hated his guts already - this must have been a school record; he may as well have been expelled also!

"How many lines do you want me to write, Professor?" Will asked, picking up the large, heavy, silver quill that was on top of the stack of light pink parchment - the amount of parchment that sat before him suggested that he would be there for a while, writing at least five thousand lines. He would never reach Professor Snape's detention on time - how ironic that would be, late for a detention punishing him for being late in the first place.

"Oh, I don't know. How about we keep writing until they have truly sunken in?" Professor Umbridge to said, smiling, her pink cheeks rising, making her eyes squint.

"How will I know when that will be, Professor? And don't I need ink?" Will asked.

"This is a special quill, that requires no ink. And you will know, Mr Davies, when the word have truly sunk in; you will feel the words sink into your skin," She said, walking around and bending down; Will could hear her breath in his ear, making him squirm. "Shall I start you off? I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure." Will began to write.

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure._

The heavy quill scratched against the rough parchment, like blood, thick and red, bleeding into the peach parchment. Quills were strange to hold, and he was far from use to it, so nevertheless, his already messy handwriting now appeared one hundred times worse, like he had on control what so ever over the bird's feather; that's if the quill was from a bird - it was nothing like Will had ever seen before, but then again, he hadn't seen a copious amount birds, other than the pigeons that would hang around the estate, waiting for any spare crumbs that any of the residents had. Sometimes, there were seagulls too, which was curious, considering they were situated rather far from the sea. No, the quill definitely did not originate from a pigeon or a seagull. Will let his mind wander whilst the quill controlled his hand, and what it wrote.

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure._

Will had only been away from home for three days, yet he missed it already. Yes, it wasn't anything like Hogwarts, what with the hungry birds, and the gangs, and violence, and shouting, but it was familiar. Hogwarts was strange and unfamiliar - acres of unknown land, and ancient castles, filled with ancient teachers. The estate was familiar, tightly compact, filled with modern-ish flats, filled with young people. Receiving the letter to Hogwarts was supposed to lead to a new, fresh start, yet Will wanted to do nothing more than to jump straight back into his past life, where he knew his place in the world.

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure._

Out of everything, everyone, from the estate, the thing, the person, he missed the most was Rob - he liked having someone around him who cared, protected him when everything was too much, calmed him down when it was all too much, when the shouting reached a breaking point, when he himself reached a breaking point. Despite the rough estate, rough life, Rob was kind and caring, generous, forgiving - all the traits that Will aspired to own one day.

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure._

Suddenly, Will felt a pain in the palm of his writing hand, almost like the burning he had felt earlier that day during the Charms lesson. After placing the quill on the parchment, Will looked at his hand. In the middle there were strange marks, blood beginning to seep out of them, like nothing he had ever seen before, and he had seen a lot.

"Finished already?" Looking over Will's narrow shoulder, Professor Umbridge asked, staring at his hand intently, like she knew what was happening, what was going to happen. "Tut tut! Only four lines and you think you're done? I think you should keep going, until the message has made a categorical impact." Will wiped away the blood with his sleeve, the red blending in with the black, and picked up the quill, which, for some obscure reason, seemed even heavier than before, continuing with his treacherous lines.

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure_.

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure._

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure._

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure._

 _I will not come to lessons unequip, late, or show signs of failure._

Looking over his shoulder again, Professor Umbridge looked at his hand, hoping to see what his palm now looked like. Putting down the quill on the parchment, Will opened his hand once more, the words he had been writing now seamlessly etched onto his skin, like a trademark, blood still seeping from the gaps where the words lay.

"Yes, I think that should be sufficient for now." Walking away into another room, Professor Umbridge left Will alone. He stood up, shaky from what he had just experienced, and left the candyfloss room, walking back down the stone steps and out of the door. It was a nuisance not having a watch with him, because it meant he was required to make a rough estimate of the time. Guessing it was only half six, Will began to walk to the dungeons - it would take at least ten minutes to walk there, and there wasn't that much time to do anything else. At least he wouldn't be late, though.

The walls filled with moving pictures, which Will still wasn't quite used to, stared at him, an orange glow illuminating the, now dark, stone hallways, watching him walk nervously to the dank, dark dungeons, where his head of house, Professor Snape, was waiting.

Although he arrived twenty or so minutes early, Professor Snape let him into the cold place, revealing a table full of cauldrons, all grimy and greasy, despite it only being the end of the first school day - what had the other classes in potions been doing?

"You will clean all of these by hand - if there is any dirt, even a speck, you will do every last cauldron again." Handing Will a toothbrush and a bucket of soapy water, Professor Snape walked over to his office. "If you need me, I'll be in here."

"Thank you, sir."

Will placed the bucket on the table next to all the cauldrons, preparing himself for at least two hours of work. Dipping the toothbrush into the water, he began scrubbing away at the first copper cauldron, caked in a sticky blue liquid that seemed to have a mind of it's own, running away from the brush when ever Will was near it.

"Damn it," he muttered after an hour of trying to catch this liquid that sat in the first of thirty cauldrons. He had, at one point, tried the second cauldron, yet that was just as difficult, a black substance caked on the bottom of the incredibly deep cauldron.

Placing the brush on the side, Will looked at his palm, which had stopped bleeding but still stung quite a bit. He continued to pull up his sleeve, running his fingers over the mysterious burns he had gained whilst in Charms - for some reason, he had a feeling it wasn't because of the wand that he had been marked with them, that it was something else. Then again, what did he know? He had been in this world for a day.

"Why have you stopped?" Called Professor Snape from his office on the other side of the room - he had ears like bats!

"My hand cramped, sir," Will lied. For some reason, he didn't like the idea of anyone finding out about the marks from that strange quill.

"You've been working for an hour and haven't even finished one cauldron, yet you have cramp?" Will had no idea of how Professor Snape knew he was yet to finish, but it was creepy.

"Sorry, sir," Will apologised, feeling useless, especially after what Professor Umbridge had said earlier.

"If you pour the water into the cauldron, it should kill the slime, drown it," Suggested Professor Snape, shouting through the wooden door.

"Thank you, sir," Will replied. Dragging the bucket so that it was touching the cauldron, Will lifted it up, struggling with the weight of the bucket, which, consequently, toppled off of the table, like an avalanche, drenching Will from head to toe, through the layers of robes, right to his bones, in ice cold water, soap getting to his eyes. Immediately dropping to the floor, Will picked up the bucket and placed it back on the table.

The scrapping of a chair across the stone floor, and the squeaking of a rusty hinge made Will sink to the floor once more, preparing himself for what was about to happen by squeezing into a tight ball.

"Congratulations fool - you have completely surpassed all my expectations; you can't even clean a cauldron. This will not do, not at all," Professor Snape said in his condescending tone whilst cleaning up the split water with a flick of his wand, yet leaving Will in his drenched robes.

"You can go - I'll sort out this mess, but you'd better come back tomorrow." Still, Will didn't move, shaking with fear. "Mr Davies?" Said Professor Snape, in a much softer tone, a hint of empathy hidden within the usually terrifying tone. Will looked up at the greasy haired teacher, who had a strange, concerned expression on his face, something Will was unused to seeing.

"Sorry, sir. Sorry," Will mumbled, standing up, still shaking. "Goodbye, sir," Will said, turning around to leave like Professor Snape had asked.

"I have some salve, for the burns," Professor Snape said before Will left. Turning around, Will said thank you, waiting as Snape went back into his office to find the salve, questioning how Professor Snape knew about the burns. Coming out with a miniscule black pot, Professor Snape handed it to Will. "Apply it twice a day for the next week or so, and then they should fade."

"Thank you, sir," Will mumbled.

"On your way, I'll see you tomorrow." Professor Snape walked back into his office, letting Will make his own way out, placing the pot of salve in his damp pocket. Suddenly, Professor Snape popped out of his office, just as Will opened the classroom door. "Sleep tonight, please."

"Yes sir," Will said, even though he knew it would be extremely unlikely that he would sleep that night - it would be nice to have some sleep, some rest, but Will feared what might happen if he were to fall asleep, where he had no control over his imagination.

The walk back was slow - everything was slower because of the damp clothes he wore. To be honest, he was still in shock - all he had done so far was mess up, and everyone had said so, the soaking wet uniform that wasn't even his said so.

It was only eight o'clock when he returned to the Slytherin common to, meaning everyone was still up - his cheeks and ears burned as laugher filled the large room, whispers mocking him.

Although it was mighty embarrassing, he was glad that the night wasn't hideous - it had the potential to have done - usually, making such a mess like he had done would have constituted for at least a shiner, or a couple of cracked ribs. Yet, he had been forgiven.

Climbing up the stairs, Will went into the empty dormitory and changed into his pajamas, using a towel he found in the bathroom to dry off. Opening the container that Professor Snape gave him, Will began to apply the green paste to the burns before rolling down his sleeves again. He hung up his wet clothes on his bed, and although he knew he would end up laying awake for the whole night, staring at the ceiling, he climbed into bed, hoping that he would feel a bit warmer, a bit safer, a bit less vulnerable.

Snape sat at his desk, looking over the corpus of fifth year's summer homework, not paying any attention to what he was reading - to be honest they weren't deeply interesting pieces of writing, considering that the topic was 'the effects of freezing and boiling potions', a topic that was actually rather fascinating. The lack of any interesting writing wasn't the only reason Snape couldn't concentrate - it was the detention of Mr Davies.

Snape couldn't decide why the boy had been so scared of him - perhaps it was just nerves; the rumours around Snape weren't the most pleasant, and it was probably quite haunting also, going to a new school without the protection of parents. There was a different theory, though, stuck in the back of his head, like a bowtruckle, that he kept going back to, although he tried to ignore it. There was a possibility, that he didn't like the idea of - abuse. It would explain the lack of weight, and insistence to say 'sir' after everything, and the lack of any of the right equipment, and his reaction from earlier, and the lack of sleep.

Ridiculous, that's all he was - he knew the family quite well, and they would never treat a child like that no matter the circumstances, and they were all tiny, so it was no wonder that William was also less than average. They were also a family that deeply respected their elders, which would explain why William was so instant to call everyone 'sir'. There were also a countless reasons he would react like he did in the detention - Snape was an intimidating man; he knew it himself, so after making such a mess on the first day, anyone would shrink away like Will had done. The lack of sleep that the boy seemed to have had could potentially be down to nerves, and exciting.

There was hardly any reason what so ever to suspect abuse or neglect - he was just being paranoid, over-thinking the situation. There were plenty of logical explanations for William's strange behavior - he would keep watch though, the new affinity pestering him.

Snape returned to the tedious essays; if the thought kept nagging at his mind, he could ask Mr. Davies the next day. Looking at the name at the top of the parchment, hoping it would provide an explanation for the extreme dullness, Snape saw Harry Potter's name, in scruffy writing, much like Potter's father - no wonder the paper he was reading was so much less interesting than anyone else's, and lacked any sort of educational knowledge.


	6. Chapter 6

**WizardingWhovian - I've used to watch SJA when I was younger, and Torchwood for that matter - class is sort of inbetween the two, slightly closer to Torchwood. I agree, they are pretty horrific effects, but then again, they didn't have much option.**

 **It's a slightly shorter chapter than usual, but, hopefully, you'll like it, and, I would, once again, be very grateful for reviews of your opinion on it.**

"Can't sleep again?" Draco asked as Will sat down again, the two in the same position as the day before, Draco leaning into the sofa, whilst Will sat on the edge, afraid to do something wrong, especially after his catastrophic day. Although he had tried to do as Professor Snape said, and sleep, there comes a point when you realise that succumbing to sleep is unlikely, and at midnight, or so, Will reached that point, coming downstairs once again, even though Snape would do nothing but refute his actions.

"No, sir. You either, sir?" Will asked the blond giant, timidly.

"Nope," Draco said. "Had a bit of a rubbish day."

"You should have seen my day, sir," Will said.

"Are we having a competition?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrow. "What made your day so atrocious?"

"I was late to two lessons, managed to get myself on the wrong side of all the teachers here by achieving a detention in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, both for not having my books, and was also told I can't actually try any magic whatsoever, until I buy a new wand at Christmas, sir. Moreover, I soaked myself with a bucket of water during my detention with Professor Snape, cleaning out cauldrons, sir," Will said, explaining his hideous day, once again, skipping out the part where his hand was sliced open by a remarkable, grotesque, magic quill; for some reason, he felt embarressed by the marks on his hand.

"Oh, wow - your day was terrible." Will nodded. "It makes my run-in with an enemy appear as if we had butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

"Butterbeer, sir?" Will asked.

"It's difficult to explain - it's kind of similar to butterscotch, or sweets, but liquid form, like nectar. It's incredibly sickly, but it is the drink of gods," Malfoy explained.

"Is it alcoholic?" Will asked - he had seen his fair share of drunken teenagers, and to be quite honest, did not wish to see any more antics from Saturday nights gone wrong.

"No, no - it's not alcoholic. Even if it was, the sugar would reach your head before anything else," Draco laughed.

The two sat in comfortable silence, neither of them thinking of much, although the idea of Draco having an enemy did surprise Will, and the thought occasionally swam around his head.

"Who is your enemy, sir?" Will asked, curiosity taking over.

"There's a boy in my year called Harry Potter, the bloody chosen one - I'm guessing you've heard of him." Will shook his head. "Don't go outside much, do you?" Draco exclaimed, Will nodding his head sheepishly. "He defeated death as a child, and now everyone treats him, and his sidekicks like they are Gods of the world," Draco explained. Will suddenly realised who they were.

"I know them, sir. The ginger giant gave me some robes on the train, because I had none, sir," Will said.

"Third-hand clothes," Draco scoffed under his breath, before snapping out of his usual persona, back into his more friendly one. "Ginger giant?" Draco asked, cocking his eyebrow again, simpering.

"Everyone's like a giant to me, sir," Will said, making Draco laugh.

"That is true," Draco said. "Why don't you have anything, school books and robes?" Draco asked, curious how anyone had the audacity to turn up to Hogwarts with nothing more than, from what Draco had seen, a battered old book of muggle fairy tales.

"Father doesn't want to be involved in magic, after what happened, so I never brought anything," Will explained.

"Oh," was all Draco could say, taking a wild guess that his mum had passed away - usually kids would go with their mothers if they split up, not their dads.

"There was an attack, sir," Will explained as if he could read Draco's mind. "I was only five, so I can't remember much, sir, only that there was a fire. I used to have two older sisters too, sir. What about you, sir? What's your family like, sir?" Will asked.

"I don't have any siblings; there's a rule in my family that each couple are only allowed one son. I guess you could say y father is strict, and my mother is too, but they want what's best for me, I guess," Draco said, staring into the distance. "They'd were out quite a bit, so I would be looked after by our house elf."

"House elf, sir? What's that, sir?" Will asked - something he had noticed whilst at Hogwarts was how little he knew about a world that he was supposedly from.

"They're little people, like you, I guess, and they clean and cook," Draco said.

"Sounds exactly like me then, sir," Will said.

Draco wasn't exactly sure what to say, so went with: "They're not wizards or witches - they're magical creatures, so to speak."

"Isn't that what a wizard is, sir?" Will asked. Draco was beginning to grow annoyed, again, at Will's knowledge, not knowing how to explain anything to him. Draco had never experienced anything other than magic, so explaining everything to a half-blood who was completely unused to the world was complicated, to say the least.

Fortunately, the two were interrupted, again, by Snape, who had, once again, decided to join the two. "What did I say last night, and during your detention, Mr Davies?" The professor questioned.

"You said to go to sleep early, sir, Will said, looking sheepish once more.

"And does it look like you're asleep?"

"No, sir. But I couldn't sleep, sir," Will said.

Professor Snape swept over, sitting on the dark coffee table in front of the two, making Will recline back in fear. "And why is that?"

"I don't know, sir," Will said, not looking up at Professor Snape, but subconsciously scratching at his hand, opening up the words once more. "I did try, sir."

"I'm sure you did," Snape said, turning to face Draco. "And what is your excuse?"

"I don't know," Draco replied, looking directly at Snape, who sighed, stared at each of the boys for a minute, before standing up.

"Try again both of you - I will not stand for anyone in my house falling asleep in lessons," Snape said, pointing his words at Draco more, which made Will assume that that had happened today. "Go," Snape snapped, watching the two boys stand up and walk off, up to their corresponding dorms. Shaking his head, he began to walk back to his own office - what was he going to do?"

 _Will found himself in the apparition of a room he hadn't seen for years, or so it seemed; the kitchen of his first home, when his mother and sisters had still been alive. From what he could remember, considering the last time he had been there was when he was six, it looked exactly the same - the white, wood-paneled cupboards lining the small but cozy kitchen of the cottage, a small, but roaring, fire in the corner heating up the room, giving it an orange glow, the pale curtains closed for the night, blocking out the darkness. In the middle of the snug, safe room was a lightly coloured oak table, where sat almost all of Will's family - his mother, Chrysanthemum, and two siblings, Lily and Rose, eating supper; bread and butter, with pumpkin juice, waiting for Will's father, George, who was returning from his work at the bank - he exchanged Muggle money to Wizarding money for a living._

 _Will, in his petite, five-year-old body, sat down next to his mother at the table, Rose smiling at him as he picked up some of the bread._

 _"Are you excited for Hogwarts?" his mum asked his sister Lily, who was eleven and was ready to go to Hogwarts in the next month, her bag already packed._

 _"Excited? I could go now!" Lily laughed, a big, happy grin spread across her face, her blue eyes alive like lightning._

 _"And leave your poor mother all alone?" their mother exclaimed, clutching her heart dramatically. Although Will couldn't remember anything about his mother and siblings during the day, in his dream world they all seemed as clear as day, his mother and her wavy dark hair, his sisters, practically twins, except for the two years that separated them, their straight sandy hair, their bright eyes, all alive._

 _"What about me?" Rose whined._

 _"What was that? Did you hear something?" their mother asked Lily, trying so hard not to laugh out loud._

 _"Only a small mouse," Lily said, rolling her eyes, folding her arms._

 _"It's not funny," Rose cried, pulling a face._

 _"We're only joking," Chrystie smiled, beckoning Rose and Lily to join her for a hug, Rose picking Will up and sitting in his place, placing the small, five-year-old boy on her nine-year-old lap._

 _"You two had better behave for mum and dad," Lily said, wagging her finger at the two smaller ones._

 _"We're not the ones that misbehave!" Rose shouted, giggling loudly._

 _"Oh, really?" Chrystie asked, raising her eyebrow at the younger two children. "Who was it that filled our newly decorate bathroom with fluorescent green slime? I seem to recall finding you two sat fully clothed in the bath, covered in the stuff."_

 _"That wasn't my fault," Will chirped in. "It was Rose that tried to use magic!"_

 _However, interrupting their friendly fight, there was a loud, almost violent knock at the door of their cottage. "That must be your father - the clever clogs managed to leave his keys, again," Chrystie laughed, standing up, leaving the children alone in the kitchen, as she went to give her husband a ticking off for forgetting his keys for the third time that week - it was only Wednesday!_

 _However, much to their surprise, it wasn't George, their father, at the door, but unfortunately, before anyone realised, it was too late for Christie. The three children scrambled, trying to find a hiding place in the small cupboards of the kitchen, after hearing the fatal words 'Avada Kadavra', followed by an obnoxiously bright green flash, and a high pitched scream from, presumably, their mother. Lily and Rose hid in a small cupboard together, close by to the door that lead to the garden, a hopefully quick getaway, whilst Will hid in another cupboard in the corner, alone, covering his mouth to try and muffle his breathing._

 _"Come out, come out, wherever you are," a deep voice said, trying to coax the children out of their hiding places. "Are you in here?" he questioned, Will hearing him open each of the cupboard doors violently, some even falling to the floor as if they had been ripped from their hinges. Getting closer and closer to Will's cupboard, the man got more and more impatient - he wanted to spill blood, in vengeance for the lord, but he didn't reach Will's cupboard - instead, he got distracted by the two small girls quivering in one of the other cupboards. "Perfect."_

 _Everything slowed down for Will, the crying and the screams of his two sisters, the green flashes that he could see through a crack in the cupboard._

 _"You know what," the man with the deep, gruff, voice said. "I think I'll heat things up." Will didn't hear anything else, but when he began to smell smoke, did he wake up from his 'trance'; without thinking about the men who had come, and could possibly still be there, he scrambled out of the cupboard he was hiding in, running past his sisters' bodies, through the burning flames, his mum, and through the front door, stumbling into his father._

 _"I'm sorry," he tried to say, forgetting how to talk, his mouth feeling dry, breathing becoming difficult._

 _"What's wrong?" his dad said, bending down to be face to face with Will, staring into his bright blue eyes._

 _"They came," was all Will managed to say, sinking to the floor._

 _"Where are you sisters? Your mum?" Will just shook his head, hoping that his dad would get the message. "No!" his dad shouted, standing up once more, running into the cottage again, the fire that had started in the kitchen spreading into the hallway._

 _"Dad!" he tried to shout - he'd already lost three members of his family, he didn't want to loose a fourth._

 _Will woke up, panting, sweat running down his face, surrounded by darkness, the silhouettes of empty, and broken, beer bottles scattering the floor, which Will was lying on, covered in a thin sheet. Home._

 _Across the room, Will's father lay on their one piece of furniture; an old, flea-bitten, dirty mattress, which make-shifted as a bed, couch and desk, where Will would try and teach himself maths and English - things that any self-respecting child should know. Hopefully, he hadn't made any noise whilst he had been asleep, but when looking closely at his father, Will realised the worst; he had woken him._

 _"Please. I'm sorry father," Will pleaded, standing to attention._

 _"You know what happens when you wake me up," his father said, marching forward towards Will, his ten-year-old body shaking with fear; on many times it happened, it never got any less painful. "I think I should give you two punishments, for saying their names as well - belt, please," his father said, unnervingly imperturbable, his hand out, waiting patiently for the weapon. Taking off the white belt, decorated with blotches of red, that kept his trousers up, Will handed his father the weapon. "Thank you."_

 _Blocking out the pain, and the harsh sound of breaking skin, Will stared at a point on the wall, wishing that the thrashing of the thick fabric would be over quickly. Surprisingly, his wish was granted, and before he knew it, was being told by his father to get out of his sight. As soon as he heard the words, he scrammed out of the room, shutting the front door quickly being attacked by the harsh winds, like minuscule knives._

 _Looking at the smoke-filled, garish sky, Will guessed it was only seven, eight o'clock, so no one would be awake, probably sleeping off the alcohol from the night before, like his father had been doing, before he woke him. To be honest, Will was overwrought with anger; he had never meant to wake up his father, and he had never meant to have the dream, and he had never meant to survive whilst the others didn't, so why was he being punished for it? Why had his father condemned him? It wasn't fair!_

 _The anger, like it had many times before, began to build up inside of him, tingling, burning, from the bottom of his stomach, deep within him, and he couldn't control it. What would happen next was what happened every time anger built up so deeply, like it had - he would feel it getting stronger and stronger, but before anything happened, he would wake up in some place he didn't know, off the estate, surrounded by an uproar rubble, extremely confused, the previous ten minutes completely erased from his memory, as if he had blacked out - however, this time around it felt so much stronger, as if a separate entity was trying to break out of him._

However, it wasn't a street outside the estate that he woke up in, covered in rubble, but the dormitory, a hand covering his mouth, quieting his scream.

"Shut up before he hears you," a voice said, daunting Will, who was unbelievably confused - was this another dream, or was he actually awake? The figure stepped forward, into the moonlight - it was one of the twins. "You know that if you don't do as he says he'll kill you," the twin said, before releasing his hand, getting back into his own bed, next to Will's, giving Will a final glare before turning back over.


	7. Chapter 7

**A couple of people have asked whether Will is an Obscurial - maybe he is, maybe he isn't. Everything happened in his dream, and where do dreams come from? Things that you've seen, memories. You'll find out later on, but for now, who knows ;)**

 **Once again, reviews are really helpful so that I know what you guys like/don't like and how I can make my writing better.**

 **Enjoy x**

Will expected the twin, who had threatened him the previous night, to tell Scorpius about the sleep talking, and nightmare, the fear of the twin doing so keeping Will awake for the next few hours, until the sun rose, but instead of doing what Will had feared, the twin kept his trap shut, which Will was eternally grateful for - he didn't need another reason for him to seemingly hate him.

However, despite the knowledge of Will's nightly terrors not being passed on, Scorpius had still found another reason to hate him - Scorpius had figured out that Will was sneaking out at night, and talking to Draco.

"Do you truly believe that making friends with one of the older ones will make you greater, more important, than us?" Questioned Scorpius, pushing Will up against the wall, his arm pressing against Will's throats interminably, rendering Will futile.

"No, sir," Will replied.

"I'm glad you agree, William; it doesn't make you more important than us. In fact, it makes you a suck up, and no one cares for a suck up - it makes you less important than us, similar to a house elf," Scorpius sniped. "And as for your information, if you and your tiny brain were yet to figure, he doesn't care for you either; he only puts up with you because he pities you."

"Yes, sir," Will replied, agreeing out of fear of being hit, the words that Scorpius had spat hitting him in the stomach - what if he was right? What if Draco hated him? What if he had only told Will wasn't a house elf the night before because he pitted him?

"Come on," Scorpius jeered, preceding to let Will free accordingly, allowing him to breathe again. "You have my DADA essay to complete - it won't write itself." Consequently, Will found himself being unceremoniously 'handed' a golden quill, a pot of 'the blackest black' ink, and thick, expensive looking parchment, from Scorpius. "If she grades the essay anything below an E you will regret it." Will, not understanding the grading system of Hogwarts, guessed it was completely different from the 'muggle' grading system, where an A* was the best, and a U was the worst, and instead of an E being below a pass, it was probably the best grade you could achieve at Hogwarts - E for Excellent, or something along those lines.

Sitting down at the expensive table in the middle of the common room, which, although ordinarily was packed, was completely empty, since the entirety of Slytherin was down at the Great Hall eating breakfast, Will took the cap off of the ink, and began writing in a slipshod, spiky font, pushing to make it as identical to Scorpius's handwriting as he possibly could. Although he tried, it was difficult not to write Scorpius's version of the homework too similar to his own, especially considering the two pieces were based on same, derivative, ten pages of introduction out of a textbook; it was virtually impossible. Nevertheless, he managed to conduct an essay that wasn't an exact version of his own, which was quite an achievement, especially as his hand had begun throbbing profusely halfway through the essay.

Suddenly, a hand clapped him on the back violently. "I wouldn't call that a masterpiece, but as long as I don't fail, you're out of the firing line," Scorpius quipped. "For the moment."

"Thank you, sir," Will replied, handing Scorpius the, now half empty, ink, quill, and work.

However, Scorpius's seemingly kinder demeanor dissolved, conversely saying: "You will carry my books, again, today, and you will make sure all of us are not late to lessons - I have a standard to keep up, what with my family's status, compared to others," looking down at Will, his nose seemingly more pointed than usual, as if his nose changed the more egotistic he became.

"Yes, sir," Will replied, following Scorpius, the chubby boy, and the two wispy twins, up to the dormitory to collect the books for the day, which in the end, went slightly better than the day before, although he had still managed to make a fool out of himself.

Firstly, Will ruined the potion that Professor Snape had demonstrated the previous day, which led to him, and the entire row, being covered in a blue gloopy liquid, consequently resulting in his detention for that day being increased by another hour.

However, they all then had two lessons in between Potions and lunch; Transfigurations and Herbology, which were both alright as they were only introductory lessons. Apart from learning about the subjects, Will had discovered a vital piece of information - never mess with Professor McGonagall; she was rather frightening, and very sarcastic, and would probably beat anyone in a fight.

Lastly, he was called out, once again, by Professor Umbridge, because apparently, his work was not neat enough, but notwithstanding this, she did not give him a second detention, which he was extremely grateful for. When thinking about it, it seemed that out of all of the teachers, only Professor Snape and Professor Umbridge seemed to have a problem with Will, which made him feel marginally better about himself - only a handful of people hated him, so it wasn't completely his fault for them hating his guts.

Despite the busy day, and Professor Umbridge, no homework was given out, which meant that apart from the three-hour detention with Professor Snape, Will was free to wander around the castle and explore, something he hadn't yet done, as everyone else had gone whilst he was in his detention with Umbridge.

Walking out of Slytherin, after dumping both his school books and Scorpius, Will headed up to the great hall, because he kind of knew his way from the great hall - if the castle had decided not to be too complex, Will planned to walk a circle of it, going past the Astronomy tower and the History of Magic classrooms accordingly, in the hope that it would help him find his way around the next day - as Scorpius said, they couldn't be late, his reputation was at stake after all, and moreover, Will hoped it would lessen his chances of finding himself on the wrong side of anyone else at Hogwarts. If he had time before detention, he might also walk around the grounds, and see how far Hogwarts actually went, beyond the castle itself.

Reaching the Great Hall, Will decided to go left, up the rocky stairs, being as quiet as a mouse, guessing the older years all had lessons still, or were in their dormitories doing homework, considering that the hallways were unnaturally empty; despite the school being rather small, the corridors didn't half fill up!

"Out of lessons?" he heard a voice say behind him, echoing throughout the Transfiguration corridor - Professor McGonagall; he was done for!

Turning around, he said: "All my lessons have finished for the day, Professor. I thought I would look around the castle, Professor, so that I don't end up somewhere I don't know, Professor."

"That's what they all say," Professor McGonagall replied, sarcastically. "Maybe I should give you a map to help you," she said, seconds later, and an incantation, pulling out a map of the castle, that of fully laid out would have easily taken up the entire corridor.

"I thought you were joking about the map, Professor," Will said, surprised at her generosity.

"We wouldn't want you getting lost - you seem to have made quite a bit of noise here already," Professor McGonagall said, handing Will the map before turning around, presumably walking back to her office. Looking over his short time at Hogwarts, he wouldn't say he had been noisy, as such, but he had probably broken the record for the quickest time to be given a detention; there were countless of other students who were considerably louder than him, yet he was no longer in the background, like he had intended to be; he was out in front with all the kids willing to speak out in class.

Opening up the map to the Transfigurations corridor, Will saw that the History of Magic was only a few turns away, and when looking deeper into the map, almost directly above the dungeons. Walking through the stone hallways, Will directed himself to the History of Magic corridor, passing a copious number of moving pictures of famous witches or wizards, something he still hadn't wrapped his head around - the laws of science seemed completely irrelevant in the Wizarding world.

"Mum sent me school stuff for you," the ginger giant said, approaching Will, who was sat under the drooping Whomping Willow, tired from walking the, what seemed like, marathon around Hogwarts. "I don't know how you're sitting there - that tree has hated me ever since I crashed dad's car into it," Ron rambled on, dodging the thick branches that tried to attack him as he approached Will with a trunk of items, varying from black robes to brass scales. "The books you need change from year to year, so she hasn't brought you any of those, but she's found everything else on the list for you - clothes and such like," Ron explained, handing Will a note written by Mrs Weasley. "Second or third hand, mind you - I have three older brothers who have all left Hogwarts so there's probably a range of all their first-year equipment sat in that trunk," Ron continued. "I'm not entirely sure how Errol managed to carry so much - he usually can't carry any more than a letter - probably some enchantment mum put on him," Ron muttered, all while Will read the letter from Mrs Weasley, explaining what she had brought him.

"Thank you, sir. How much do I owe you, sir?" Will asked, looking up at the giant.

"Nothing. Like I said, all second hand," Ron said, deciding to sit down next to Will - usually he found first, second, and third years beyond annoying, but, Will wasn't - he seemed alright, considering he was a Slytherin - unlike most people, he didn't pester Ron for Harry's autograph which was a change. "How's Hogwarts treating you?" he asked.

"It's a change from home, sir - Professor Umbridge and Professor Snape aren't that nice, though, sir," Will said.

"They're not the most likeable people, are they," Ron laughed. "Look, I need to go, but I suppose I'll see you around," Ron said, standing up, and walking away, towards Harry and Hermione, the other two giants, who were beaconing Ron over, leaving Will with a giant suitcase and an hour to drag it back to his dorm and then to his detention with Professor Snape; he couldn't wait to put on clean, dry robes - his current ones still had a hint of dampness from the previous night.

"Tonight you will be cleaning out cauldrons again," Professor Snape said, letting Will into the cold, dark dungeon. "If you want, you can start with your own," he continued, handing Will a scourer and a smaller bucket filled with the same soapy water. "I don't want anything even close to what happened to happen this time," he said, walking into his office, leaving Will, once again, alone with thirty cauldrons. Looking down at the cauldron he had used that day, still filled with the blue gloop, Will began scrubbing away, grateful for how much easier it was to clean the ones the night before.

It didn't take all that long, perhaps an hour and a half, to finish off the lot, washed and dried, all shining brightly, so much so that if a crow were to find its way into Hogwarts, it's eye would immediately catch the cauldrons. To say that Will was proud of himself was an understatement - this was the first successful task he had completed so far.

"Don't think that your detention has finished, young man," Professor Snape snapped. "You still need to stack them all back up with the rest of the cauldrons," Professor Snape shouted through the door.

"Yes, sir," Will shouted back, accordingly walking over to the cupboard where he guessed they were kept, however, regretting opening it, the cupboard being so full that the content consequently fell on top of him - at that moment Will decided that he was cursed whenever he was in the dungeons.

"I hope nothing is broken," Professor Snape snapped apathetically, poking his head around his office door.

Scanning the offending mess for any damaged articles, Will shook his head. "No, sir. Sorry, sir."

"It needed reorganising anyway - I suppose you could reorganise it," Snape suggested.

"Yes, sir," Will said, standing up, beginning to ache from the strains of the day - he was beginning to regret walking around the entire castle, and the grounds surrounding it. Slowly picking up one of the sets of scales, he placed it at the top of the cupboard, squeezing four more sets of scales into a space that should have only held two at a maximum.

"Did you put any salve on this morning?" Professor Snape asked suddenly, whilst Will was sorting the mountain of junk into reasonably sized piles. Looking back, he realised he hadn't, being too distracted with Scorpius and his DADA essay.

"No, sir," Will mumbled.

"Thought not. I found some spare on my office - once you've done you can have some," Snape said, motivating Will to move faster.

"You're quite clumsy, aren't you," Professor Snape commented, handing Will the pot of spare salve.

"Yes, sir," Will replied, taking the pot and opening it, taking some of the salve, using the dim candle light to apply it to the deep burns on his arms, Professor Snape raising his eyebrow.

"Why don't you go to sleep like a normal person? Maybe then you wouldn't mess up so terribly," Professor Snape continued in his monotone voice, hissing almost, like a snake, the words panging Will in the stomach - it was true; he couldn't even open a cupboard without ruining everything.

"I'm just not tired, sir," Will replied, lying; although Will knew that he was exhausted, he didn't want to risk anything, especially after the dream he had had.

"If I can notice burns on your arm whilst sitting in a different room, I can tell whether you're lying or not - contrary to popular belief, I'm not a complete moron."

"I told you, sir."

"So you don't eat either because you're not hungry?"

"Actually, I not ever all that hungry, sir," Will said, returning the salve to Professor Snape, who immediately returned it to his messy draw of random potions and salves.

"Don't use that tone with me," Snape snapped again. "I can't have anyone in my house showings any signs of weakness, such as tiredness, which I'm sure Draco has told you." Will nodded. "You will go down to breakfast tomorrow after you have had a full night of sleep young man."

"But sir," Wil started.

"I will not have excuses - if I find that you don't do as I say I will have to find other methods to make you tell the truth, do as I say. I may be a potions master, but I do have a few incantations up my sleeve."

"Yes, sir," Will said quietly.

"You can go now," Snape said, turning away from Will.

"Thank you, sir," Will said scuttling out.

Once again, he didn't sleep that night, but he wasn't going to give Professor Snape yet another reason to dislike him, or Scorpius and his friends, for that matter.

Instead, Will sat by the window, using the moonlight to read the Beetle and the Bard, which he had taken from the common room and would return in the morning, before anyone else was up. After having only one book for so long, a book of fairy tales for that matter, being given the option of reading one hundred made Will ecstatic.

Will had to admit, although he had only been at Hogwarts for a few days, it was already beginning to feel like home.


	8. AN

**Hey. I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. I'm struggling to find the balance between revising and writing. I will update again, whether that be this month or the next.**

 **However, as revision for the Eng Lang paper, I am writing extracts, so to speak. I have decided to post these on FictionPress, as a portfolio of practice answers, under the same username. If you would like to read them, that's where they'll be.**

 **Thank you very much,**

 **Rachel x**

 **UPDATE - My GCSEs start in 7 weeks, and they'll be going on until the end of June, so it is unlikely that I will o=update before then, but after that, I have the longest summer ever (like 10 weeks (which is almost double the length of a normal UK state school summer)) meaning I'll have all the time in the world to update this. Sorry I've been so inactive but education takes priority in this situation. Thank you for understanding.**

 **Rachel x**


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